Later in the day, as the sky became brilliantly golden in the setting sun and the shadows turned shapes into shades of the Blue Ridge blues, I saw a lone hawk soaring over the cove and the Fodderstacks as if to bestow a blessing and I knew what I had to do. If I were a composer I would have written a requiem, but I am a painter and I wanted to say to the hemlock, "Thank you for your majestic being and you will not be forgotten."
When I finished the painting I listened again to the words of a song by Leonard Cohen called Nightingale, that mystic bird in tales from the East. His poem about the bird seemed to sum up what I was trying to say about the hemlock:
I built my house beside the wood
48 x 48/ Triptych
East of the Sun, West of the Moon
Acrylic on Canvas
48 x 60 Gallery Wrap / Diptych